


New Technology

by soullessfollower98



Category: Captain America, Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Steve is Confused, Virtual Reality, but he's managing, technology stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9526928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessfollower98/pseuds/soullessfollower98
Summary: No, Steve still didn’t know how to work all the features of his television, but virtual reality? Sure, why not?(In which Steve dabbles with virtual reality to see Bucky again, and there are many reasons "why not.")





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, my first Captain America fic! Nice!  
> So, okay. A few things.  
> One, virtual reality is really advanced and super duper cool in this version of the universe.  
> Two, this takes place before TWS, but I've probably made it a longer span of time than it actually was. Oh well.  
> Hopefully I haven't messed up too much else? We'll see, I guess.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

Slowly, Steve put the glasses on.

He didn’t know what exactly he’d expected. Something shabby, something fake. Something obviously _not real_. Something that he could laugh at and then forget about it, something he could count as being silly, something he could move on from.

This was… It was none of those things.

Bucky was standing in front of him. _Bucky_. Dressed in his Sergeant’s uniform, hat in his hand, hair combed, slicked back. Looking proper but yet still casual, professional but approachable. It was like the night before he’d shipped out, the night they went to Howard Stark’s show.

It almost took him back there. It was _that_ realistic, _that_ much. It was overwhelming. He felt small again — felt the need to fight, to prove himself, to _help._ Felt his heart ache at the fact that Bucky was _leaving_ , that he couldn’t go with him, that they were keeping them _apart_ —

“Stevie?”

The word was soft, concerned. Bucky was looking at him now, directly looking at him, his blue eyes focused, familiar. It was a look he’d seen before, countless times, a look he hadn’t seen in so, so long, and it was so, _so_ much. So much.

Too much.

When Bucky took a step towards him, that was the breaking point. The point where Steve went from awed and heartbroken to _horrified_ and heartbroken, and he was ripping the glasses off his face, pulling the earbuds from his ears. He clumsily shoved everything back in its packaging, even went as far as to put it back in the bag it came in.

And then he put it under his sofa.

It was impossible to forget that it was there, but. It was out of the way. Hidden.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Although he had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t quite work like that.

 

* * *

 

Technology was weird.

At first, Steve tried to get on without it. He’d lived his entire life technology free, why did this have to be different? Sure, it might be a bit difficult, but he’d been faced with worse things, hadn’t he? This wasn’t fighting Nazi scientist-soldiers, this was avoiding _Twitter_ and _Facebook_. Hard, but not impossible. Right?

Wrong.

The Nazis would’ve been easier. At least he knew how to do that.

This, though… He couldn’t avoid them, but that didn’t mean he knew what they were, either. A Facebook “timeline” made no sense to him and the word “instagram” held absolutely no meaning. He didn’t understand the point of “tweets” being so limited and he didn’t get why there were people on “tumblr” calling him a “dorito.”

Tony told him that he was sick and tired of managing all of Captain America’s social media, but what did that _mean_? What was he supposed to do? He’d tried tweeting, but he didn’t know what to say. Apparently people used it to describe what they were doing, but all Steve was doing was sitting in his apartment. That was boring, right? People wouldn’t care about that.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

After a week of that, Tony took control of the accounts again, grumbling about how there should be “college courses about the 21st century.”

Steve didn’t argue with him. A college class would have helped.

After settling down in his apartment, he’d been gifted three new-age-technological things. Only three. A mobile phone, a computer, and a big, flat television.

He was taught how to use the most basic functions of the phone almost immediately. He could text people, call people. “Google” things if he was curious about anything. He had a game of Scrabble going on with both Sam and Natasha, except it wasn’t called Scrabble, it was called “Words With Friends.” He had other games, too, like Tetris and Sudoku, that he played occasionally, when it was a late, sleepless night, and he didn’t feel like filling his entire apartment with sound from the television.

The television, actually, was more complicated than he thought it would be. He remembered the first sets (he certainly didn't have one, though — far too expensive) and how everyone was impressed with them. He remembered it being simple, but yet still fascinating. He remembered thinking to himself how he would still prefer his radio. This television, however, was not simple. There were a lot of options, too many options. It could do more than just show programs, too. There was “Netflix” (most of what he watched), and “YouTube” (he’d only ever dabbled; after finding a bunch of old Captain America war videos, he decided to stop). It had taken him longer than he would have liked to figure it all out, and he wasn’t even using all of the features. Just a few channels and Netflix.

Steve used the computer the least. Google was easier on his phone, and he couldn’t play Scrabble. The _laptop_ , as Tony called it, seemed… Cumbersome. Unneeded. It was a bigger version of his phone, why did he need that? Anything he was doing was by _far_ not technologically advanced, so a phone was doing him just fine. Still, Tony insisted on it. Claimed that one day he’d need it, find a use for it.

Somehow, Tony always turned out to be right. Maybe it was hereditary.

 

* * *

 

Steve had just been watching television.

He was, for once, using cable, and not Netflix, because Sam had helped him find a good documentary about the Cold War. It was too strange for him, the fact that a whole other “war” (except it wasn’t a war? He was confused) had happened while he was asleep, and that he knew nothing about it. He’d expressed the concern to Sam one night, at three in the morning, when it felt like ice was sliding and slithering into his bones, too much for him to sleep, and as soon as the man woke up, he’d sent him instructions on how to tape an upcoming program about it.

And so there he was. 45 minutes into an hour and a half special about the Cold War. It was a commercial break, but he didn’t skip those. He wanted to see as much as he could, learn as much as he could. Commercials helped him discover what was new in the world, and even if he didn’t completely understand everything, it was still something. In this case, it was the History Channel, so mostly recent, world events.

Steve could use all the help he could get.

The commercial break was especially long, though, and there were quite a few advertisements he’d already seen, so his mind was starting to wander. What would he have thought of the Cold War, had he lived naturally through it? What did Peggy think of it? What did this program look like from the Soviet Union’s point of view?

And then, something caught his attention.

“Next Tuesday, discover the recent history of virtual reality! Tune in to see what developers have accomplished so far, and what they’re planning in the future!”

It piqued his interest, every time he heard completely new, foreign vocabulary used. And “virtual reality” certainly qualified.

One quick (twenty minute) Google search later, and Steve had learned that it was a form of entertainment, originating with video games. Simulations, sort of. Making people think they were somewhere else. He had no idea how it worked, but that wasn’t exactly unusual.

Reusing Sam’s instructions, he set the program up to tape, then went back to learning about the Cold War, not thinking much of it.

 

* * *

 

It was a month after the program recorded before Steve actually sat down to watch it.

He’d been busy. The Avengers had been cracking down on Hydra, raiding bases and camps, pulling as much information from the buildings and the agents as they possibly could. It’d been pretty fruitless, honestly; no new information was turning up. Every new base just contained things they already knew, intel that had been learned mostly from the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Still, it was something. Definitely something. Every Hydra facility they took out meant there was one less facility in the world. A small comfort, but still there, nonetheless.

A month after the program recorded, Steve had just gotten back to his apartment after a week long mission. Three Hydra bases, all in the middle of nowhere, all in Northern Europe. Nothing new, but it didn’t bother him. Any sort of action was better than the alternative, better than sitting around and twiddling his thumbs.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down on his sofa, leaning back, stretching his limbs. He was sore, but it wasn’t the worst. Nothing was really “the worst” anymore, not after the serum. Idly, he turned on his TV, looking through the channels before checking his recordings. There wasn’t much, besides a few National Geographic programs and a couple Disney movies that weren’t on Netflix. He was about to simply settle in for a night of Disney princesses, until something caught his eye.

_Virtual Reality: A Recent History_.

Steve only barely remembered recording the program in the first place. It still seemed interesting, though, because of the unfamiliarity of it, so he put it on, crossing his legs and stretching further, getting comfortable.

Virtual reality was advanced technology, that much was obvious. They were using words and phrases Steve had no clue about, had no comprehension of. They could’ve very possibly been layman’s terms, but either way, he was lost after ten minutes.

So he turned to his phone. Sam had played a new word in Scrabble, and Steve needed to keep up his lead, so he focused on that. Tony had started playing, too, but his responses were infrequent at best. He pressed the “nudge” button and continued onto the game he had with Natasha, scouting out possible words.

Every once in a while he glanced back up at the screen. Most of the time, it was either a commercial, or people were wandering around somewhere, wearing a giant mask looking thing. He heard it referenced as a headset a few times, or occasionally head _gear_. The program couldn’t keep enough of his attention, though. He kept getting lost in unfamiliar vocabulary, and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his night trying to figure it all out, so Googling things wasn’t an option.

Towards the end, when Steve looked up, the headsets were gone, and it was instead a few people wearing the same type of glasses. They, the narrator explained, were the latest and greatest virtual reality technology.

“Just these glasses?” a girl asked, holding them, looking unimpressed. She reminded him of his ma, but in appearances only. The body language was all wrong.

“Just these glasses,” a man, who was wearing a Captain America shirt (great), assured her. He typed a few things onto the laptop he was standing next to, then said, “Go ahead, put them on.”

The screen split into two then, one side labeled “Our view” and the other “Meghan’s view.” For a few seconds, nothing was out of the ordinary, until Meghan looked to the other side of the room, and none other than Albert Einstein was standing there. His posture was stiff and awkward, but he looked undeniably _real_ , and Meghan reacted to it as such.

“Oh my god!” she gasped, looking back at the Captain America man before refocusing on Einstein. “He looks so _real_! I can’t believe it!”

The “our view” camera panned over to where Meghan was looking, to where, from her point of view, Albert Einstein was clearly standing, but the other camera picked up nothing.

“Can I talk to him?” Meghan asked, and before she could receive an answer, Einstein said, “Why wouldn’t you be able to talk to me?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up just as Meghan yelled some word that was bleeped out by the show. Even Einstein looked a tad bit disgruntled, then, and it was _still_ realistic. The voice had been, too. It didn’t sound fake, like a robot. It didn’t sound like the woman on Steve’s phone, _Siri_. Her speech was good, but it was still obviously fake. It wasn’t fooling anyone, but this… This _could_. And it was, if Meghan’s shocked expression was anything to go by.

Steve watched the rest of the program, his phone now lying on the couch next to him, forgotten. There hadn’t been that much left, maybe only fifteen minutes, but it had him captivated, fascinated until the very end.

Apparently, the set that was being sold was a pair of the glasses, and some “earbuds.” (Sam had given him a pair, and though he never used them before, they were at least slightly familiar.) With the two, you could see and chat with anyone you wanted, though it was mostly historical figures that were advertised on the show (it was the History Channel, after all). When interviewed, though, the developers made sure to mention that the options were certainly not limited to just people from history. You could choose from their list, or, alternatively, customize someone of your own.

The alternative made Steve think, though he shut down the train of thought before it went too far. Because that was stupid, right? It was stupid, and awful, and _no_ , he was not doing it.

He ended his night by playing Sudoku until he drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Steve just happened to have a lot of money.

He didn’t ask for it; he’d grown up and gotten by with nearly nothing. It was what he was used to. What he expected. Never in a million years would he have imagined he’d have _too much_ money. That was a fantasy, a daydream, something you wished for but never said out loud because fellas would laugh at you.

But now it was his reality.

Between the contributions Tony had forced on him and the funds the government owed him, most would consider him a wealthy man. The thought made him squirm; affluent living wasn’t for him, wasn’t his style. Besides buying the quality apartment Tony had insisted on, he hadn’t spent more than he needed to. No “splurging” for him — just basic necessities. Food, clothes. Utilities.

The end result was that he had a bank account that just sat there, accruing interest, growing more and more because he never touched it.

Normally, that fact bothered him, but it wasn’t even on his mind as he walked into the electronics store.

He hadn’t planned on going there. It was a gorgeous, sunny day in New York. He’d been out on just a walk, his sketchbook in his bag, pack of pencils nestled against it. He’d been searching for things that struck him, things that caught his eye and made him stare, things that were secretly beautiful.

So far all he’d found was a flower growing next to a dumpster, but. He made it work.

So he was wandering, no set path, eyes scanning his surroundings, taking in all the sights and sounds of New York. It wasn’t something he could do often, and he savored every chance he got to just _be_. No fighting, no aliens. No Captain America. Just Steve Rogers and his sketchbook, the way it used to be.

And then he was in front of the electronics store, with no idea how he’d managed it.

It would’ve been easy enough to turn around. To start heading back towards his apartment, traveling along a different set of streets, seeing if anything piqued his interest there.

But he didn’t.

Steve walked right into the store, his bag tucked securely against his arm, a few loose pencils making a rustling sound with every step he took.

Despite the fact that he was definitely leaps and bounds ahead of where he had been when he first woke up, he was still, by no means, technologically savvy. Because of that, he’d never actually been into a store like this, never had any aspiration to. He felt… Out of place. He felt his age, strangely enough. As if all the employees could take one look at him and tell that underneath his young, early twenties facade, there was a really confused and really old man, just wandering around.

But that was impossible. He was just browsing, not touching anything. To everyone else, he was just a young guy, probably looking to buy the newest phone, or the best computer. (He already had both, courtesy of Tony, but that was beside the point.) If someone paid enough attention, they’d be able to tell that he was Captain America, in the flesh, but he was hoping his “incognito” outfit helped him avoid that. (His outfit consisted of a hat, fake pair of glasses, and a sweatshirt. But that was beside the point, too.)

Eventually, and though Steve tried to deny that it would happen, but obviously it was going to, he ended up at the virtual reality section. This store was selling the old headsets, like the ones he’d seen early on in the documentary, and the new kind, too. The glasses.

The glasses that let you talk to any person you wanted to.

He wandered around the other sections of the store again, for another 45 minutes, before wandering _back_ , picking up the box that contained the glasses, and paying more for them than he had paid for his apartment, back in the 30s.

 

* * *

 

It was a month and a half before Steve opened the box.

It was another month after that before Steve actually turned the glasses on, and set them up, using his previously neglected computer.

After that, it went in increments of two or three weeks. Every few weeks, he’d do a little bit more, edit a little bit more of the “customizable person” that had been advertised to him. It was in depth, as he’d expected, and most definitely more advanced than he should’ve been dabbling with. No, he still didn’t know how to work all the features of his television, but virtual reality? Sure, why not?

There were a lot of reasons _why not_ , actually. Steve tried not to think of them.

And he didn’t, most of the time. It was easier, honestly, than he thought it was going to be. Most of the setup was personality questions, and he knew the answers to them better than he would’ve known them for himself. There were quite a bit, as expected, but he didn’t mind. It was sort of a stress reliever, after a long, hard mission. Just sitting down with his computer and doing something so _effortless_. 

That was one of the _why not_ reasons, but again, he didn’t think about it.

After personality, which took him approximately nine weeks to complete, he moved onto appearance. That was harder, both mentally and through the actual program, but he had help. YouTube was a big part, surprisingly. The war videos had come in handy, along with old Howling Commandos interviews.

His rate had slowed, though, and he was done with appearance in five weeks.

It happened unexpectedly one night. Steve had gotten back from another Hydra themed mission, an especially exhausting one. Knowing sleeping wasn’t going to work, he settled into his bed, laptop on his lap, earbuds in his ears. He was listening to a playlist that had been made for him by Natasha and Sam, but that quickly faded into the background of his mind. Appearance editing quickly took up most of his brain power, and somewhere, he realized that he was just making finishing touches. Somewhere, he understood that he was almost done, almost complete, that he’d really _done it_ , the thing he swore to himself he wouldn’t.

Somewhere, but he certainly didn’t know where.

So when a message popped up saying, “Alright! You’re ready to go!” Steve didn’t know what to think.

Was he… Was he _really_? Yes, he’d spent the money, and willingly given over his time, but was he… He couldn’t. No. He wouldn’t.

But it only took an hour and a half for curiosity to win the battle.

Closing out his game of Scrabble with Tony, Steve opened his laptop back up, following the final setup instructions that were given to him. It wasn’t much; where to position things, how to connect the glasses to his computer so everything he’d done in the past months showed up and worked well.

And then he was just standing there, holding them in his hand. They were a bit bigger than the average glasses he’d seen people wearing, but they weren’t ridiculous looking. They were… They looked simple. Simple, but secretly fascinating, and those kinds of things always did intrigue him.

Slowly, Steve put the glasses on.


End file.
